


My Precious

by domesticadventures, propinquitous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gender Issues, M/M, Marriage Proposal, References to Lord of the Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures, https://archiveofourown.org/users/propinquitous/pseuds/propinquitous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inside the box is a bracelet with shiny pink, purple, and gold beads, punctuated with a heart-shaped pendant that reads, “Half my Heart is in Heaven.”</p>
<p>Dean looks at the bracelet and then back up at Cas, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”</p>
<p>Cas looks at Dean gravely. “This is my serious face, yes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Precious

“I have something for you,” Cas says when he walks into the kitchen. Dean peers at him over his coffee, raising his eyebrows.

Cas looks excited, his mouth pulled tight like he’s trying to keep from smiling. He barely keeps it together long enough to root around in his coat pocket and emerge with a small black box, which he hands to Dean with the same reverence with which he approaches most activities. Dean takes the box and puts on his best _Oh, you_ face.

Inside the box is a bracelet with shiny pink, purple, and gold beads, punctuated with a heart-shaped pendant that reads, “Half my Heart is in Heaven.”

Dean looks at the bracelet and then back up at Cas, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

Cas looks at Dean gravely. “This is my serious face, yes.”

“Cas,” Dean says, his own expression grave, “I know you were an angel, but you’re...I mean, you’re here now. It doesn’t really make sense. You realize what this inscription means, right? This is...this is something a person would wear if their, ah. If someone they really cared about was dead.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Are you implying you don’t care about any of the people you know who are currently in heaven?”

Dean wants to get mad, wants to throw the bracelet down and storm out of the room, except Cas is looking at him in that dumb earnest way of his. He realizes Cas isn’t trying to hurt him on purpose. They’re long past doing that to one another. He’s legitimately trying to be thoughtful, trying to show he cares.

Dean continues protesting, though. “Look,” he says. “Cas. Regardless. I still can’t wear this.”

“Why not?” Cas asks, frowning.

“It’s just. It’s totally girly.” He winces at how pathetic that excuse sounds. At how ungrateful he must seem.

“Why?” For a split second, Dean wants to accuse Cas of being intentionally obtuse, but no. He’s standing with his head tilted to the side, looking at Dean with genuine curiosity.

“It’s all...pink and shit,” Dean explains. Or, well, tries to explain. “Girly colors.”

Cas huffs an exasperated sigh. “I wasn’t aware pigmentation and varying wavelengths of light were constrained to human concepts of gender.”

The exasperation is certainly mutual. “Cas. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what _did_ you mean?”

Dean groans. “Look, I know you’re new to the whole human thing, but there are...People have certain expectations about this kinda stuff.”

Cas clearly isn’t buying it. “When have you ever played by anyone else’s rules?”

“I’m not saying I want to, or that I like it, it’s just.” A vague sense of dread works its way into Dean’s thoughts, some vast mixture of bits and pieces of his life -- all the times his dad told him to “man up” or “don’t be a little bitch,” all the kids who threw the word “gay” at Sam like it was an insult, all his admittedly few personal belongings that were black or blue or green but never, ever pink or purple -- and he has no idea what to say, no clue how to even begin to explain. So he switches gears. “I just can’t. Sam would never let me hear the end of it.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Sam doesn’t care that you like Taylor Swift or silk panties--”

“Hey,” Dean interrupts sharply, because Cas better not have freaking told Sam about that, but he doesn’t have time to ask because Cas just plows on, unperturbed.

“--and he certainly won’t care if you wear this bracelet. Give him some more credit than that.” Cas pauses, takes Dean’s hand in his own, softens his tone. “I know you’re afraid of what people will think. But if there’s anything I’ve learned these past few years, it’s that humans are full of surprises.”

Cas is smiling at him so gently, and shit, Dean doesn’t have the heart to continue making excuses. He throws his free hand in the air in a defeated gesture. “All right, all right,” he says. “You win. I’ll wear the damn bracelet.”

When he looks up, Cas is beaming like an idiot. “Thank you, Dean. Also, I would like to take you on a date.”

At this point, Dean knows better than to try and recategorize it by referring to it as “hanging out,” or limiting it solely to descriptors like “dinner and a movie.” Like with the bracelet, he’s given up trying to defend himself against a host of imaginary critics, and besides, it makes Cas happy.

It turns out Cas wants to go to some fancy restaurant, and there was a time when Dean would have objected to that, too, but now he finds himself thinking, _you know what, fuck it._ He looks damn good in a suit, he’s got nothing to be ashamed of. He even enlists Sam’s help to find a tie that will match the bracelet. Cas is right. Sam doesn’t care. Sam seems thrilled, actually.

They make it to the restaurant and, much to Dean’s relief, nothing has gone wrong. Dean is sitting there wearing his suit and his purple tie and his damn bracelet and no one has commented, no one has even given them a dirty look. So he thinks, less aggressively, _eh, may as well go all the way,_ and holds Cas’ hand on top of the table.

While they’re still waiting for their food, an elderly woman walks by holding onto the arm of a much younger man. When she comes to a stop despite the guy’s insistent whisper of “ _Grandma,_ what are you _doing,_ ” Dean thinks, _well, we had a good run,_ and braces himself for the inevitable.

“You’re such a lovely couple,” she says, throwing Dean for a loop. She leans closer to read the inscription on the gold heart laying against Dean’s wrist. “And what an awesome bracelet.” She gives her grandson a sideways glance and says, whispering rather loudly, “In case _someone_ needs an idea of what to get me for Christmas.”

“Grandma,” the kid says, looking mildly horrified, “Grandpa is _still alive._ ”

She smiles serenely, patting his arm. “Well, it never hurts to be prepared.”

Cas is chuckling at their exchange, but Dean is still caught on the compliments, playing them over and over in his head and thinking, to his own pleasant surprise, _Yeah, we are. And yeah, it is._ Cas saves the day with a modest, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, I wish Earl would wear jewelry,” the lady continues, sighing wistfully. “He would look so good in it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Cas says, and then gives Dean a sly look. “Jewelry is very sexy, Dean. It makes you practically irresistible.”

Dean totally wants to kick Cas under the table, but then he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks up to find both the lady _and_ her grandson are nodding emphatically, and, well. Three against one. He knows better than to argue. Still, he’s relieved when he’s saved by the arrival of the appetizers, his admirers excusing themselves as the waiter sets down the food.

They get through the rest of the meal without event. Their plates have been cleared and they’ve just finished paying the check when Cas looks up at Dean as though he’s just remembered something important and says, “Oh. Before we go. I have one more piece of jewelry I’d like for you to wear.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but all he says is, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes,” Cas says. Grinning, he slips from his seat, pulling something from his pocket as he drops to one knee. He opens a small box, revealing a beautiful golden ring, and Dean is thinking, _holy shit, is this really happening._ “Only if you’re willing.” The room has gone almost completely silent. It’s surreal. Cas quirks an eyebrow, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “My precious,” he whispers in his best Gollum voice, quietly, so only Dean can hear, and that manages to break the spell.

“Hell yes,” Dean says, and the entire restaurant breaks into applause, so only Cas hears when he says, dramatically, “I will do it. I will take the ring to Mordor.”

As they both stand to leave, Cas catches Dean’s eye. “You have my sword,” he says gravely, and actually fucking _winks_. Dean is thrilled Cas had the decency to wait until after the meal, because he’s pretty sure he would have choked on his food.

They laugh the whole way out of the restaurant, to the car, on the drive back to the bunker. When they finally step inside, pausing to catch their breath, Dean takes the opportunity to press Cas up against the wall, their hips flush, ring glinting on Dean’s finger, bracelet clinking cheerfully.

“Speaking of _Lord of the Rings,_ ” he says, breath ghosting along Cas’ jaw, “I think it’s time for a marathon.”

Cas responds by pressing back against Dean eagerly. “I’m a fan of the extended editions, myself,” he says.

The night that follows is certainly award-winning.

 


End file.
